


Better The Devil You Know

by SirRobin126



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Supernatural
Genre: AU, Crossover, Gen, M/M, ripper time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-02
Updated: 2015-07-27
Packaged: 2017-12-16 20:14:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,975
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/866151
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SirRobin126/pseuds/SirRobin126
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes demon deals are high-inducing adrenaline rushes that leave you gasping for more. Sometimes they just leave you bleeding in the middle of the road.<br/>There is one demon Ripper will never forget. One that made him doubt not only himself, but his future as well.</p><p> </p><p>Re-done, re-edited and re-published. The fic formerly known as London 1976 has been digitally re-mastered for your enjoyment. Yes you! With all new edits and a new final chapter this fic is kind of different and kind of the same as before.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Midnight

**Author's Note:**

> I really liked this story but I got super blocked with it for ages but now I have re-edited it and continued on to someplace I liked with it. Apologies if you liked it before but frankly, its just better now so i'm not going to be too apologetic.

People were overflowing into the streets. They shrieked and laughed as they stumbled into taxis, or in groups down the pavement, wobbling to the next club. On one street a motorbike was tearing its way through the throng. It narrowly avoided ploughing into pedestrians, coming close before sharply turning in time to avoid injury.

An explosion of sound followed the bike, ripping through the chatter of the crowds before finally drowning them out as it travelled further. It wobbled and its two riders bounced on the old seat dangerously, but the bike continued to speed on the asphalt. The riders were nearly invisible in the dark but occasionally (illuminated by the light of the few working streetlamps) two boys in dark jackets and shredded jeans could be made out.

A taxi was parked at a crossroads in front of them, its light was dark and there was no sign of a driver nor a passenger. The front rider began to speak, quickly and quietly, and the road began to crack and split. A stretch of the road in front of the bike was wrenched upwards and soon a makeshift ramp stood ready to be jumped. The bike’s front wheel trembled as it neared the ramp but its rider gripped the handlebars tighter and pressed on. The wheels hit the ramp and the rider jerked the bike up to jump the broken taxi. They flew into the air and the front wheel just brushed the dark TAXI sign when a flash of sickly green light exploded in front of them.

The light solidified and carried the bike the rest of the jump, cushioning its landing, but it nevertheless skidded onto its side. Its riders were unceremoniously thrown off, the first finding himself spread eagled in the middle of the crossroad. He swallowed hard and with difficulty brought his hand up to feel his head and check for injury. Having satisfied himself that his head was fine he turned his attention to his partner.

“What the fuck did you do that for?” He spat from he lay but quickly propped himself onto his elbows when pained groans were his only answer. “Ethan? You alive?”

His inquiry was again rewarded with guttural sounds. “Ahh fuck” he muttered to himself as he knelt and crawled over to where Ethan lay. He stopped for a moment to let his world come into focus but pressed on even when the world remained a touch blurry, he’d gotten used to that in the past months. A concerned frown was etched onto his face as he lent over his prone friend.

In a gentler tone he asked “Hey Ethan mate you alive? We good?” He put his hand to Ethan’s cheek and tapped him softly, then harder when he failed to respond.

Ethan’s eyes opened and after a few tense moments replied “Yeah I think i’m fine,” then with a smirk “all good mate. Were you worried Ripper?”

Ripper was relieved to see him okay but that fucking smirk never failed to piss him off, especially when he defiantly had been worried. He took his hand from Ethan’s cheek and slapped him, his concerned look replaced with a rather more stormy expression.

“Then maybe you could tell me what tHE FUCK YOU WERE THINKIN’?!” Ripper was on his feet, shaking off his jarred limbs and futilely trying to dust off his clothes which were now caked with dirt. Ethan remained where he was, indignantly rubbing his stinging cheek.

“What? Oh wait, when I saved our lives you mean?”

“I had the jump. You tripped me up with that show-off magic bullshit. We’d have been fine if you’d left it the fuck alone.”

“Well i’m sorry for trying to avoid being splattered across the pavement.”

Ripper just looked at him, lying where he was in the middle of the street. He deliberated trying to point out the obvious to Ethan but, as he so often did, he decided to just ignore him instead. He threw his dark jacket to the ground and strode over to the fallen bike. Ethan however was not about to let it go as easily. “

Wanker” he muttered under his breath, but deliberately loud enough for Ripper to hear it. Ripper did not disappoint, standing hunched, inspecting the bike when he suddenly stiffened at Ethan’s voice.

“What did you jus say?” He didn’t turn around but his voice carried across the empty street.

“I beg your pardon?” Ethan feigned innocence, his voice nonchalant. It was a favourite game between them, insult and anger was sort of their idea of foreplay. Ripper slowly turned on his heel, tongue held between his teeth to stop himself from smiling.

“What did you, just then, say to me?” He spoke the words slowly, allowing himself small, slow steps towards Ethan.

“I may have insinuated,” he climbed to his feet as he spoke, his thin limbs unfolding beneath him. He was almost as tall as Ripper but where Ripper’s height was filled out with his broad shoulders and chest, Ethan remained eternally lanky. “that possibly, you were one who brought himself to sexual gratification by-”

“Oh shut up!” Ripper couldn’t wait for Ethan to finish his sentence, the smirk was back and Ripper just needed to wipe it off his face. “You’re gonna pay for that one you know that?” he grinned widely as he lunged at Ethan, who sprinted away and circled to the other side of the street. Ripper chased him and Ethan was forced to duck and weave to avoid him.

He used his greater speed to dance out of the way, giggling as he did so. “Ah! I’m sorry Ripper! I didn’t mean it! You’ve never wanked in your life! You’re a fuckin’ monk!”

Ripper had to stop running as his laughter caught up with him. They found themselves at a standstill, staring at each other across the fallen motorbike. Ripper lifted his hands in a conciliatory gesture.

“Alright, alright.” He raised his eyebrows at Ethan, attempting to look innocent. “I s’pose I’ll let you off this time. Only…”

Ethan looked at him suspiciously. “Only what?”

“Only this!” And with that he lunged across the bike and tackled Ethan to the ground. They scrapped for awhile but there was no contest, Ripper was soon straddling Ethan triumphantly.

“Why must all out conversations end like this?” Ethan wheezed. His breath was coming in short bursts as he laughed, the cold air sweeping into his lungs. Ripper gave him a superior gaze “Frankly, I think it has something to do with your negotiation skills.” He leant down and planted a kiss on Ethan’s cold mouth, his breath warming both their lips. Breaking the kiss, he squeezed Ethan’s sides with his knees before abruptly standing up. Ethan let out a disappointed sound and Ripper winked at him as he swaggered backwards.

“I hope we didn’t lose the others, be a bugger tryna find ‘em now”

Ethan sat up to respond but was stopped by a sudden pain in his chest. “Oh fuck me!” he shouted as he lay back down.

A gravelly voice from the darkness answered him “Well with such an enticing offer, how could I refuse?”


	2. Silent Night

The newcomer was illuminated by the pool of light at the foot of the streetlamp. He was leaning on its pole nonchalantly, as if he had been there for some time; although neither Ripper nor Ethan could recall seeing him there before.

The stranger was short, with a close cropped beard and wearing a dark suit that seemed, to Ripper, to seep into and disappear into the shadows behind it. Ripper suddenly became very aware of his own, slightly less put together appearance. He resisted the urge to try and smooth down his torn jeans and dirty t-shirt; a habit formed from many years at public school. 

Instead Ripper took a step towards Ethan. He planted his feet and as defiantly as could, took a cigarette from his pocket and proceeded to light it. He flicked his eyes towards the stranger as he did so. 

“You what mate?”

The look the stranger gave Ripper then was the most condescending he’d ever seen. It was one step away from the man actually patting him on the head.

“I just thought, if the young fellow was offering I may as well oblige.” He grinned then and Ripper felt a wave of rage he couldn’t quite explain. Sure he was into Ethan and everything, but something about this stranger made him feel so, territorial. 

“Yeah well i’m afraid the fella’s taken so you can just keep on looking old man” He took a long drag off his cigarette and shot a look at Ethan, who was watching the exchange with interest. Ripper could see the much embellished sorry about the exchange being formed in Ethan’s head as he watched. Ripper was a little ashamed to note that his manner changed after that, like he was performing for people that weren’t even there. 

Nevertheless he shot out a menacing look, rather more aggressive than before, and advanced slowly towards the streetlamp. Instead of reacting with the mild discomfort expected of a man of his age and attire when faced with an aggressive and dirty teenager, the stranger put his hands in his pockets and stepped forward. He looked unimpressed. 

“Now, what’s a strapping boy like yourself doing out here insulting innocent passersby hey? Surely there’s some rats nest you call home that’s missing your, undoubtedly, warm and enjoyable company?”

“I don’t think that’s any of your fucking business!” 

“Tsk. Such a disappointment, the youth of today.”

“Fuck you.”

“Eloquent, as expected.”

He never raised his voice, but it carried without his trying and grate down Ripper’s spine. Ripper could feel himself rising to the bait but decided that aggression was his best tactic anyway. He was still very conscious of his prolific audience member as he continued. 

“You know” he snarled, playing with the cigarette between his fingers “you might want to get out of here before your well groomed out of here before it becomes a little too permanently detached from your shoulders.”

It was a bold threat, one that Ripper did not intend to see through. His reticence was apparently obvious as the man raised his eyebrows derisively before replying. 

“Ah yes, attacking my excellent hygiene, very clever.” He had an insufferable smirk. “I don’t quite see that your in the position to be making such grown up threats son.”

He was pacing slowly towards Ripper as he spoke. The drawing out of this exchange irked him, and he was having a more difficult time holding his ground than he would have liked to admit. They were standing close now, the contrast between them evident in Ripper’s fuming and the stranger’s unbearable calm. Not to mention the not insignificant height difference. 

A rumble sounded in the street behind him, and suddenly from the dark came the sound of several rowdy teenagers laughing into the night. Ripper smiled and stood a little straighter. He was a little more powerful like this, with a herd behind him. He allowed his crowd to gather behind him, jumping off motorbikes and clamouring to be part of the event. He flicked his cigarette butt into the gutter were it sizzled and went out with a hiss. 

“Huh. You know i’ve just realised something” He said, doing his best impression of a man just realising something “It seems, little man, that there is only one of you but there are…”

He spun around to continue his pantomime and began faux counting the number of people. This was mostly for the benefit of his latecomer friends. They laughed at this and the dynamic of the exchange was made clear, poke fun at the other guy. They were gathered in a loose line, some leaning on bikes and cutting off the street in a threatening gesture. 

Ethan finally stood up from the ground, the pain in his chest having eased somewhat. He had spent the last few tense minutes alternating between trying to catch Ripper’s eye and searching the street fro their friends. He now limped over to them and settled himself on the seat of one of the bikes. A pink haired girl passed him a flask and he took a swig, trying to hide his grimace at the acrid taste. He began to murmur vague affirmations and was encouraging the gathered crowd in their jeering. 

Ripper had to roll his eyes when he heard Ethan begin his cheer squad. It was something that never failed to cause Ripper embarrassment, he wasn’t used to having a sidekick. He tried to focus back on his conversation, even looking a little apologetic about the embarrassing background noise. 

The man smiled unnervingly and waved his hand. The world fell quiet. 

He could’t hear Ethan, nor their friends. Not only that, but the multifaceted background noise that made up London at night was silenced as well. He turned his head to look at his friends. They were shouting silently and trying to break there way through an opportunely invisible barrier. 

This man was becoming increasingly dangerous. 

“Who the fuck are you?” Ripper asked warily.

“The name’s Crowley.” He looked disappointed when it appeared his reputation did not proceed him but pressed on nonetheless. “And then word you should be looking for is what.” His eyes flashed red momentarily and then he was back to business. 

Ripper stood thoughtfully for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed. Crowley smiled, thinking perhaps this boy was more interesting than he looked, although that couldn’t be hard  
.  
“And who, might I ask, are you?” His voice broke Ripper’s concentration.

“I’m Ripper. Ripper by name and...” He didn’t have to finish the sentence, Crowley was already smirking at him. “Crossroads Demon.”

Crowley was slightly taken aback. “No you’re not” was the only response he couldn't muster to that non-sequitur. 

“Obviously I don’t mean me do I? That’s the one though. Demonic powers, out in the middle of the night, at a crossroads, obvious really.” Crowley nodded in acknowledgment.

“I thought you had to be called up, at least that’s what i’ve read.”

“Well as a matter of fact, I was.”

“What happened?”

“He chickened out.” Crowley waved a hand at the broken down taxi that still beside them, indicating that the ‘He’ he was referring to was the previous occupant of said car. “He asked me for power. I told him I could make him King.”

“Why did he leave?”

“I mentioned that i’d have to do away with the rest of the royal family and he got squeamish. Then I realised he wasn’t going to deal so I let my hounds have a bit of fun.” As if on cue, a howl echoed down the streets, a lone sound that punctured the oppressive silence. “People today have no ambition, used to be you'd murder the man yourself to get the crown. Nowadays..” He shrugged to convey exactly what he felt about people ‘nowadays’.

“So now you’re sitting here trying to steal away the should of innocent passersby. Isn’t that nice. I expect you’ll want mine now.”

“Think you’re innocent do you? Well innocence isn’t required anyway. How about it then?” Ripper raised his hands in the time honoured gesture meaning ‘what are you offering’?

“One of my deals could do wonders for you. You’re a curious boy aren’t you? Probably into the dark magicks?’” Ripper unconsciously rubbed his forearm. “I can give you all sorts of secrets to the underworld, and the aboveworld, and the between worlds for that matter. Do you know about the one with the shrimp? You could. Or how about power, get some of that magic juice running a little stronger.”

“And all it would take is my soul?”

“Eventually. But let’s live in the moment shall we?”

Ripper looked at the ground. He hadn’t intended to actually give the deal a chance but he found himself wondering if he could find the secret to immortality in the next ten years. As he pondered he heard the howl again and with a shiver he decided the deal was not for him. Crowley however, was growing bored and decided that perhaps Ripper just needed a demonstration of the power he could have. 

All at once the outside world was once again let in. Their onlookers had given up trying to beat down the invisible and had settled down. Now they jumped to their feet again and began shouting their relief.

Their relief was short lived. Crowley raised his arm and clenched his fist, one of the group doubled over spitting blood from his mouth. 

Soon another of the gang was being raised up into the air. Her legs thrashed wildly and she was spitting curses at Crowley, whose arm mimicked her rise. 

Many of the group began to lunge at Crowley but they were beaten by Ripper. Crowley had turned to gauge Ripper’s reaction and found that reaction in the form of a sharp punch to the jaw. The punch sent Crowley stumbling and suddenly their were hands on his throat. Ripper’s face was close enough to be touching his and he hissed into his ear “Let her down. Now.” and then as a quick afterthought “and slowly.”

Crowley resisted at first but Ripper’s tights hands were searing into him. He realised it wasn’t his imagination, Ripper’s palms were actually burning his throat.

Slowly Crowley lowered his prisoner. Ripper loosened his grip for a moment to check on his friend. He paid for that lapse in attention. Crowley reacted quickly, twisting out of Ripper’s grip and taking a fistful of the boy’s hair. At the same time he kicked the legs to from under him and stomped on Ripper’s ankle. 

He was not a fan of being physically manhandled and he responded accordingly. He thrust out his hands and sent Ripper flying. 

Ripper crashed into the asphalt and skidded along the ground, chin scarping and jaw knocking. He saw his gang rush at Crowley before he was violently thrown into a nearby wall and could see only red brick and stars.


	3. Magic and Blood

Ripper’s hand was in his pocket, fishing for a pair of glasses that had not been there for a long time; it was a habit he hadn’t yet been able to shake. Slowly his vision cleared and from his position on the cold concrete he could see fighting, both physical and supernatural. Heavy grunting and the sound of blood splattering filled his ears, every so often drowned out by an explosive crack accompanied by a too-bright beam of coloured light.

Ripper struggled to his feet. His lip was swollen and there was a painful tingling in his jaw, as if a layer of skin had been scraped off. Crowley’s attention had been diverted by his friend’s attack and he saw the demon almost lazily wave his hand in a dismissive gesture that sen three of them flying. The rest of his gang was locked in what seemed to be an invisible battle. They would punch and kick and stab at the air, and would be knocked and ripped at in return. Slobbery growls filled the air, as did a rotten stink and suddenly Ripper understood. His friends were beset by hounds from hell, and he had no idea how to get them out of it.

From his back pocket Ripper took his small folding and flicked it open. He’d thought it a cool accessory when he’d first run away, reasoning to himself that no-one would take him seriously unless he could hurt them. Since then it had become more of a necessity then he would have liked. The handle had been stripped of most of its paint and the blade was significantly more jagged then it had been when he’d bought it. It had been in a small shop in a side street, and Ripper had thought himself very dangerous and daring for being there.

He stabbed fiercely at the air in front of Ethan. The boy had been backed against the wall by an invisible menace and he was feebly trying to keep it at bay using the same barrier spell that had caused their accident. Hitting nothing he quickly drew back and stabbed out again, this time being rewarded with a yelp of pain. Blood seeped onto his knife where none had been before.

Hot air suddenly billowed in his face, as did a smell so rank that it took all he could to not pass out then and there. An unseen force hit him and knocked him to the ground, invisible teeth digging into his shoulder. He stabbed upwards with the small knife, feeling it hit flesh and pushed as hard as he could. The pressure on him relaxed somewhat and with a superhuman effort, he rolled both him and the hellhound over so he was straddling the beast. As quickly as his arms would allow, given their exhaustion, he lifted his hands and began plunging them downwards. The ground was pooling with hellhound blood as with each stab the yelping got louder. Claws ripped at his legs and the beast tried to buck him off but Ripper wouldn’t let it. With one last plunge Ripper dug the blade as hard as he could into the dog and dragged it upwards, in his best guess of where the beast’s throat would be.

The thrashing underneath him became weaker and he rolled himself the body and onto the cold ground. It was sticky with blood and he founds his hands covered with the stuff as he again struggled to his feet, trying to find his balance.

Crowley still stood in the middle of the crossroads, seemingly in his element. His eyes were red as the blood on Ripper’s hands. As Ripper fought his fatigue he saw Crowley reach a hand out to one of the gang and put his hand right through him. When his hand came out, a significant amount of blood came with it. Ripper’s rage boiled over, fatigue forgotten as he desperately tried to think of something he could do, something big.

He had magic sure, but so much of that required preparation and there was little chance to prepare anything right now. Crowley’s attention had returned to him and his gaze was burning into Ripper. His brow was furrowed and became even more so when he eyes shifted to a space behind Ripper.

Ripper didn’t have to look, he knew the dead hellhound was behind him, just as he knew the Crowley would kill them all if he didn’t do something immediately. Crowley looked less collected then he had so far. He looked frighteningly furious, his mouth opened into a snarl and his eyes were cold. He began to walk slowly towards Ripper, who with little time to think reached out to the only thing he could.

The demon was never very far away. He could feel it sometimes touching the outer edges of his mind. He tended to ascribe all sort of wayward thoughts and whispering to it, even though he knew deep down that some of those thoughts were his own. Now he let the demon take a further hold of him. It seeped into his brain, leaving an ice cold trail wherever it went. The freezing tendrils began in his his forehead and leak down his spine.

He felt his feet lift from the ground but he could not put them back again. He couldn’t see a thing, the world becoming nothing but a blur of shapes and splashes of colour. As Eyghon began to take him over he concentrated on his one want, repeating it over to himself desperately.

_Make them safe_

_Make them safe_

_Make them safe_

_Make them sa-_

The world snapped back into stunning clarity, such as he had never seen before. For one brief moment Ripper could feel the power coursing through him. It was frightening and exhilarating, he knew he would never again have to wonder what could drive men to commit the atrocities they did in the acquisition of power. He understood them perfectly and knew in himself that he could commit such atrocities himself just to extend this feeling even for a moment.

And then it was over. The world blurred slightly and the crushing pain returned to his body. He dropped to the ground and was immediately picked up, his arms flung across the shoulders of unseen saviours.

He looked around at the bloody street. His friends were standing, wary and tense, spread across the asphalt. There was no growling in the air, and only traces of the horrid stink were left. He eyes found Crowley crumpled on the edge of the street, a streetlamp mangled on top of him.

When Ethan retold the story for years afterwards, his eager listeners would hear how Ripper had reached out and crushed and the lamppost with barely a flick of his fingers. They would hear how he then stood coolly in the night’s breeze watching as the lowly crossroads demon slunk off into the darkness. Ethan always insisted there was a breeze that night, alternately turning into a howling wind at the exciting moments and subduing whenever he was trying to build suspense.

What Ethan’s listeners would not hear was the pounding in Ripper’s chest as he hung suspended across his friends shoulders and watching Crowley’s slowly rising form. They would not here about the blood pouring from Ripper’s nose, filling his mouth with a taste that was not his own. He’d been in enough fights to know the distinct metallic taste of human blood and it worried him that this felt like something else. He was also burdened with the knowledge that this blood would not be the only payment Eyghon expected.

Crowley pushed the streetlamp away. He looked weary but there was a strength to him still that warned them all he could continue the fight if he wanted to.

“I wondered when I saw that mark on your arm,” he began softly “I couldn’t quite place it though, thought it might just be a harmless affectation of the rogue teenage warlock.” He smiled coldly, brushing concrete off his coat. “But then you killed my hound and I knew you were the real deal, all the way in aren’t you? You sorry bastard.”

Ripper could barely respond, exhaustion was eating at him, infecting his body. “No sorrier than you.”

“I’m afraid that’s where you’re wrong. I make the deals, I don’t take them.” He picked a piece of glass from his face. “Eyghon isn’t it?”

Ripper just looked at him. There was something in Crowley’s eyes that he couldn’t place. Anger? Fear? Pity?

“That’s what I thought then. You’d have been better off taking one of my deals you know, get you out of this racket. Too late now though.” He said it almost regretfully.

Crowley had his back turned to them now and was walking casually away. For a little while Eyghon had felt like protection, he had seen victory and in that moment he had been proud of his alliance. His feeling of protection vanished quickly.

Crowley turned on his heel to look Ripper directly in the eye and in his gravelly voice said “I’ll be seeing you kid.”

With a wicked smile worthy of the cheshire cat himself the demon vanished into the shadows.  

 

As soon as Crowley disappeared Ripper's legs gave way, his knees buckling beneath him. He could feel himself being hauled onto one of the bikes, his hands strapped to the boy in front of him with duct tape so he wouldn’t fall on the ride. He heard the telltale rip of the tape several more times and realised he was not the only one being carried from the battlefield today. He lost consciousness several times on the trip and when he finally woke for good he was back in the run down house they had claimed as their lair.

The following night he finally had the time and the presence of mind to examine the demon’s last words. Crowley had said them with such assurance, as if the notion of their meeting again was so absolutely certain. He tried to quell the thoughts, the fears that his ties to the demon world had irrevocably linked him to their world, to hell. But he couldn’t even be sure in his own mind if that was really how Crowley had spoken or if he was replaying and reprocessing the information himself. He opened himself in meditation to examine which it was and to his dismay, although not to his great surprise, he could not tell.

Ethan took great pleasure in retelling the events of that night to the whole gang, and to a few others who had dropped in, no one was sure from where. He embellished the story as he went, adding in details and descriptions that stretched any realists imagination. Ripper sat quietly next to him on the couch, enjoying the story more than he thought he would and smiling in faux modesty when Ethan blatantly made up things he’d done and said. Occasionally when the darker thoughts crept in he would bury his head in Ethan’s neck, to mark him with yet another hickey. Ethan would squirm and giggle and return to his story, one that was to be enhanced and perfected for many years to come.

The doubts niggling at the back of Ripper’s mind wouldn’t go away. It would be months before he went a day without dwelling on them. And it would be years before he tried to sever any ties with Eyghon. On that night he realised in coherent thought for the first time the idea that would plague him for the rest of his life

_They’ll never let me go_

**Author's Note:**

> If you wish to use this story as background point for any Buffy/Supernatural crossovers you may wish to write you are absolutely free and encouraged to do so. All you have to do is acknowledge the fic and of course send me the link to yours.


End file.
